EVENT ★ NALAWI INTRO

[futurologists]

Recruits leave Oska at midday, with about 10 minutes of final warning given from the jewelry. Then the white mist rises as rifts open, and Oska is left behind. The transition into Nalawi is not a peaceful one. When the mist fades, recruits are immediately hit with a face full of lashing rain and driving wind. The recruits have arrived in the middle of a nasty storm, but that’s not all that greets them. Seawater surges all around, breaking against -- houses? It’s a little hard to tell at first, in the chaos of the storm. Half of these buildings are made of rock, not carved, but shaped, and the other half seem to be living trees, thin wood and thatch, and a handful of more ornate (and more fragile) material, including clouded glass or obsidian. The stone houses are standing up best to this onslaught of waves, but even they weren’t made for this, and they shudder and crumble in the thrashing storm. Thin screams can be heard over the wind and water, too. The locals are having some trouble not being washed away. The people here are small bipedal deer, and those hooves were not meant for swimming. They struggle in the water, some of them trying to snag a few precious belongings from drowning houses, some of them not even able to do much more than hang onto some jutting stone or tree. There are a few heroes among them, putting superhuman powers to good use: here a young man hovers in the air, dragging others out of the water and toward safety; there a girl parts the water with careful gestures of her hands, enabling a whole family to dart from their ruined home and run for higher ground. These feats are rare, though, and on the whole most of these natives are in trouble. They don’t look too stunned to see the new arrivals -- they don’t have time to, and will push roughly past a new arrival to deal with some crisis sooner than stop and stare. They’re mostly just grateful for any offered help, generally seeming terrified and shellshocked by all of this. If any of them are asked what happened, they’ll point with varying degrees of wordlessness toward a high stone wall between the village and the sea, with an enormous gap broken through the middle of it where the sea rushes in. Like many of the houses, this dike was clearly shaped from living stone. But whatever shaped it apparently has no power to maintain it, and this is the storm that had finally taken advantage of that. This long, dark afternoon provides plenty of tasks: help the Nalawi people evacuate from their ruined village, try to find material to rebuild their shattered (and still crumbling) dike, or take care of the hungry sea creatures that have taken notice that the deer, usually safe on land, are suddenly in easy reach. They look like crabs with too many legs, but each of them is nearly the size of one of the villagers. They’re more than capable of seizing a struggling villager and scuttling back toward the break in the dike to drag their prize into the sea. Their shells are difficult to get through, their pincers terrible and sharp, but their joints and eyes are unprotected and tender. The storm won’t last forever, though. It blows itself out in a few hours, just in time for a truly beautiful tropical sunset over the western edge of the island. Exhausted locals will finally begin to talk a little more. They’ll explain to their rescuers that the Stone Shapers have all had their Gifts faded out: there’s not a single one left. Without these abilities, the dike was left defenseless against the storm and the water rushed in. Their despondency and resignation suggests this kind of disaster is not new to them. They are, however, very grateful for the help: anyone who lends a hand over the new few days (thankfully sunny and clear) sorting through the wreckage, rebuilding, and setting up new dikes will be given food and shown to the inn for free lodgings. Welcome to Komo, Nalawi. OOC INFO ICly this log will cover the day of arrival and the following few days of recuperating and rebuilding, if you would like to include that in your top level prompts. OOCly it will last until the 26th. New information will be available at that time. As some quick refreshers, we have our Mission Overview here, which also includes a questions subthread for general questions. For intro event-specific inquiries, please see the comments below. Additionally, be sure to have read the Chantes epilogue as well as the Nalawi: Locations page. Note that we will also have new characters arriving during the event, so be sure to give them a hand!

Comments

A FASHIONABLY LATE i am sorry...

[ninmu]

[ once again, being able to fly is massively helpful in the new planet's situation... theoretically, at least. If it was just waves. A full-blown tropical storm like this, though? Even Melan's sleek wings and powerful jet propulsion have trouble fighting through the wind and rain. And the lingering threat of lightning strike doesn't make him much more comfortable, either.

Still, for him, it's better than being on the ground - there's no way he'd be able to keep his balance in the rushing waters - and thus, he does his best to fly straight and steady, trying to scoop up wayward villagers wherever he can find them and bring them to higher land while hoping that he's not unlucky enough to get electrocuted. So far, so good on that front.

The other thing he's hoping is not to get blown into a rock outcropping or building or what have you while holding a villager. And that one, he's only half as lucky on. On the bright side of things, he just dropped off one of the natives - a shaking, elderly little woman - on higher ground. However, it takes less than a minute into his descent back to the hot zone for a gale-force wind to slam into him, throwing him aside like an insect in the breeze... Straight towards Mettaton and his three amigos, naturally. ]

Look out-- !

[ he shouts, voice strangled, but it's probably too late. Hulking 7 foot robot, meet another hulking 7 foot robot. ]

YO WHAT UP

[ex_mettacrusher33]

[Look out? Oh. Oh, that's incoming death. The media always claimed your life would flash before your eyes, but this quick-fire approach to snuffing out his flame is only leaving him enough time to test if his internal censors are working.]

****

[They do.

The deer-monsters shriek. He twists his body so none of the natives are in the collision zone. Then, like the magic it is, there's suddenly a slow rain of small, fragile blocks and adorable, tiny versions of his box form floating down on umbrellas. The blocks break in one touch and the summoned helpers can't do much but grasp at the intruder with tiny hands, but softening the blow before this turns into the most tragic and spectacular explosion of gorgeous metal is his only thought-process.]

[ninmu]

[ if it's any consolation, he weighs less than he looks, and he's actively trying not to body this glamorous savior of deerkind. That doesn't mean he's not still colliding with him. Mettaton's quick thinking does provide some cushioning; he doesn't know what he's hitting here, exactly, but he doesn't feel bones cracking under his weight, so that's a plus. Hurting the natives would be a critical mission failure.

He kicks all the force into his legs and his jet pipes that he can, and it manages to angle the crash enough to send the bulk of his weight flying into the ground and a cloud of blocks and little robo-boxes rather than into Mettaton, with a mighty crash and an equally-mighty splash of mud and water. There's an unpleasant snap as something breaks - the tip of his sword, it looks like - followed by coughing as he tries not to swallow too much of this mud. Apologies will come once he can breathe properly again... ]

[ex_mettacrusher33]

!!

[Okay!! Not as bad as a crash!! It shoves him roughly to the side, but he manages to keep his balance enough (after flailing spectacularly in the mud with his heels). The monsters are still crying. He has one arm wound against the one on his chest and the other stretched out to grip onto the ones on his shoulders.

There's mud in his hair.

He doesn't have any gel. It's enough of a terrible thought to keep him from being that mad at this...

Oh. Oh!! Is this another robot?!!!]

IS THIS ANOTHER ROBOT???!!!

[He's excited. Sue him.]

[ninmu]

[ these poor deer don't deserve this. These poor dears don't deserve this, either, but alas. At first, he doesn't respond with anything other than a groan as he pushes himself up onto his knees, wincing a little bit as he puts pressure on the broken blade - but, once he's confirmed his own status (not too injured), he's quick to turn to Mettaton and the natives, standing up unsteadily in the mud. ]

-- Are you injured?

[ Melan blurts that out instinctively before realizing that he was asked a question first. ]

I'm a Monomakia, [ he adds unhelpfully. ]

[ex_mettacrusher33]

Just my pride, darling. [Really. Mud in hair. Mud in hair.

Still. His current friends are crying and being in wet land is increasingly dawning on him as a bad decision. Regardless, the robot holds out a hand toward the...

Amonomakia?

Whatever. Neither one of them needs to kill everything by short-circuiting in this water.]

Bit of a mouthful, Amon, but that's hardly your fault. Let's get somewhere less deadly, shall we? I'm Mettaton. [It's like he's posing somehow.

He is. He is literally posing somehow.]

[ninmu]

[ the kind gesture is met with a second or two of hesitation, though not out of cruelty; he's just deciding how to even respond to it, seeing as he has no hands of his own. After a moment, he offers his rifle-arm, accepting the help up.

Unlike Mettaton, he's in no danger of short-circuiting or anything like that, and thus, he assumes that Mettaton isn't, either... but it's still dangerous here, so he won't disagree. Even if he's not looking particularly endangered with the posing and all. ]

No, my name is Melan, [ he corrects in that same neutral tone of voice, but continues anyway. ] Mettaton. I can take one of the civilians.

[ex_mettacrusher33]

[Oh lord, he just now notices the weapon arms.

Alphys would be in love.

There's a robotic cough and the pinker robot tosses his hair (getting mud on the face of one his new deer-friends, who sputters in response). Oh. Melan. Much better.]

And let down my newest fans? I could never! [They're still terrified, honestly. A transfer wouldn't do much good for them.] But I'm currently accepting body guards, beautiful! [Because crabs.

...like the ones coming up on them now. It's just going to be that kind of day, isn't it?]

[ninmu]

[ fans? he looks at the unfortunate Nalawi citizens briefly, and one gets a sense he's a little bit skeptical of the claim, but as much as he likes asking picky questions about minor things, in the roar of the wind and the rain and the approaching danger, it's not really worth mentioning. This Monomakia - this Mettaton (he hasn't heard of it, but there are a lot of things he doesn't know) - seems competent enough. So he just nods his pointy head, obedient. ]

Understood. [ his sword is broken, but he still has his gun. And - judging by the pack of crab-monsters creeping up behind them - he's going to need it. ] I'll cover you. Go ahead!

[ the crabs may have tough exoskeletons, but natural selection doesn't choose for protection against plasma rifles. Rather than risk getting tossed about by the wind again, Melan chooses to hold his ground on the muddy slope for now, aiming the bronze barrel of his natural weaponry at their new enemies. He aims for the legs and pincer joints, and he aims well. It's not usually enough to kill them, but it at least cripples them, slowing them down enough to keep them from coming too close. ]